


Healer's Winter

by LogicIsGod327



Series: Anthropomachy [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Because Derek and Stiles deserve good things, Canon-Typical Violence, Divine Fetch Quest, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Resurrected Claudia Stilinski, Resurrected Laura Hale, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Stiles' name is Genim, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The worth friend actually, the sheriff's name is John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17713217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicIsGod327/pseuds/LogicIsGod327
Summary: Months after the events on Prospect Mountain, the pack, plus two, are settling back into life in Beacon Hills. There are still plenty of questions, like where did Deaton disappear to after losing his magic, and what is with all the snow? However, even with school, relationships, Christmas shopping, and helping two formerly deceased people get used to a world that's moved on without them, they still can't catch a break. The Earth Mother is back, and she needs another favor: Find a missing God. That's the easy part. The hard part is infinitely worse.





	1. Prologue: On Our Way From Stockholm

**Author's Note:**

> I am well aware it is February, and that's godawful late (early?) to write a Christmas fic, but I started Lazy Summer Goddess in August, okay? Cut me some slack, it'll probably be August before this one is done. That said, a quick intro to what we got so far, and the rating might go up, it depends on if the filthy pervert in me wins out. (It probably will) ANYWAY! Chapter title is from Low's Just Like Christmas, it's a jam. Enjoy!

Seattle is beautiful during the winter, especially after a fresh snowfall. Once upon a time, Theo had hated winter, but that hadn’t been for a long,  _ long  _ time. Honestly, it had been so long since he’d seen winter that he had forgotten it existed. During his long sleep, he’d only been concerned with one thing, and that was the summer and the sun under his purview. All that’s the past, though. Now, Theo can genuinely enjoy the crisp winter night in Seattle. His great-grandmother was out there looking for him, no doubt. He’d felt Her when She had joined back with the earth, but even the mortals seem to have noticed  _ some  _ kind of shift.

The news talks about how forests are growing back at stunning rates, describing a sort of global bloom of biodiversity previously unseen in history, and a stunning number of storms and other natural disasters seem to be striking the most aggressive polluters. Hah, She always did favor a little wrathfulness. Not that it matters, She won’t find him, he’s made sure of that. She might be of the opinion that Gods needed to come back, but he had his own opinion. That opinion wasn’t that the Gods needed to come back, it was that They needed to  _ die.  _ He wouldn’t, no, couldn’t hope to bring himself to harm his family, but Theo could sure as Hell make sure he died, and he’d live the best life he could before he did.

**-Ω-**

Claudia sighs as she watches a thin layer of snow fall outside the house. She’s got herself wrapped up in blankets on the couch, staring out the window at the weather as it goes. It’s not the concerned, tired, agonized sighs she spent the last few months of her life giving, precious few seconds of which she could remember. It’s a different, contented sigh, the kind that comes from a stomach filled by a warm meal and a good dessert, along with a glass of red wine afterwards. 

It’s been hard getting used to the world as it is now. The last cellphone she had owned was a flip phone, and it had been new when she’d bought it. Now, she walks around with a paper thin slice of glass in her pocket that can do all sorts of fancy things. She still hasn’t gotten used to social media, but she does appreciate that she can get all her newspapers right into one app. Going back to school has been the hardest. Grateful as she is to be back, sometimes Claudia can’t help but wish the Earth Goddess had brought her teaching license back with her when she’s neck deep in Psych 208 homework.

“Clauds?” John’s voice breaks from the doorway leading into the foyer. “What you up to?”

She turns around, smiling at her husband softly. “Just watching the snow fall. Come sit with me.” 

He does as requested, easing onto the couch behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Hey, beautiful.” He says, kissing her cheek. 

“Hey yourself, mister.” She chuckles. “Where’s our son?” 

“On his way out.” Stiles interrupts, surprising them both. “Date night and all.” 

Claudia laughs. “You coming back tonight?” 

“Probably not.” 

John speaks up. “Okay, shoot us a text when you plan on coming back, so we can plan for dinner accordingly. Have fun, kid.” 

“Thanks, Pops.” Stiles replies, striding across the room to kiss his mother on the cheek and hug his father. “Love you both.” 

“We love you, too.” Claudia says. “Have fun.” 

“I will.” With that, Stiles is gone out the door, heading for the Jeep. 

Claudia laughs to herself before speaking to her husband. “We are way too cool with our sixteen year old son running off to spend the night with a man six years his senior.” 

“He’s had a lot of growing up to do.” John replies. “A lot changed after you died. But, yeah, you’re right. We’re way too cool about that.” 

“The kid’s as good as married. Little late to put the genie back in the bottle, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah, don’t remind me. I’m still not to cool with  _ that  _ little tidbit.” 

“Don’t worry, you big softy, you’ll still get to give him away at the actual wedding.” 

**-Ω-**

The woods rush by so quickly they should be a blur, but they’re not. Even as the last stretches of twilight give to the inky dark of night, even as the snow starts to pick up, even as she moves faster than almost anything else in the forest, Laura can see everything in detail. She lets the power coil deep in her legs for a moment before rocketing upwards thirty feet in a single bound, easily grasping a branch in the wide bough of an ancient pine tree and looping over once before letting go, flying through the night air with grace. She lands on her feet, and then breaks in a dead sprint. The final stretch. 

The lights of the house show through the trees, and she’s nearly there. That is, until she hears it. The incessant  _ beep beep beep  _ of the stopwatch. Fuck! She still hasn’t beaten her best time. Slowing to a light jog, she heads for the back porch, where Erica sits sipping on a mug of hot chocolate, waving the offending timer at the end of a string. 

“Damn.” Laura pants. “So close to my best time.” 

“You still beat everyone but Derek by a mile, Laur.” The younger wolf replies. “Four minutes, thirty-six seconds on a ten mile loop is damn impressive.” 

She shakes her head. “It’s not four thirty-four, though. I am his big sister, I  _ will  _ beat him at everything, alpha or not.” 

“Since the house is empty for the first time in, well, ever, I’ve been meaning to ask. How do you feel about that? Derek being the alpha now, and all that?” Erica asks, tilting her head and looking for all the world like a curious golden retriever. 

Laura plops down in the chair next her, watching the thin layer of snow she’s disturbed settle back to the earth for a moment before speaking. “Surprisingly okay. I was always meant to inherit it from Mom, but not the way I did. I buried all of that part of me, including the urge to pack build. I neglected the most important part of being an alpha, because I didn’t think I deserved it.” 

“Did you blame him?” 

“Not for a second. Even when we figured out that bitch Kate did it, I never blamed him. He was sixteen, for God’s sake, he was grieving and she took advantage of him. Besides, Derek blamed himself for it enough for both of us. Besides, if I had to choose between being alpha and having Cora and you guys, not to mention this sweet ass house, I’d choose this every time.” She replies. “You’re pretty okay, even if you are a bunch of little twerps.”

“Hey!” Erica protests, lightly shoving her. “I am not a twerp.” 

“Isaac and Danny most certainly are. Too damn loud when they’re going at it, too.” 

“Ugh! Tell me about it!” 

With that, the two women head inside, still laughing as they do. 

**-Ω-**

There’s practically a blizzard raging in Moscow. Most people would avoid this snowstorm unless necessary, but it’s the perfect time for a black town car to slip through the gates of the Kremlin unnoticed. After all, it’s not every day the greatest heads of the Druidic Order meet with the highest levels of the Russian government. Best to make this kind of deal quietly. There are masters of ancient magic among them, the most learned practitioners on Earth. One however, is different. A former emissary, now reduced from a forest fire of magic to less than embers. 

Not to worry, though. They have plans, and he is key to them. Alan Deaton smiles as he takes in the large onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral as they cross into the gates of the fortified capitol complex. Yes, the Druids have plans, and they won’t make the same ham-handed mistakes that Julia Baccari made. They are, after all, the greatest magical minds in the world, and, magic or not, he counts himself among them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Reviews, kudos, that shit! Do it up, please! I hope you guys enjoyed. Also, please, try to guess who our central divinity is this time. Look at the title, it's a big fucking hint.


	2. Disarmed By Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one is really a filler chapter. Stiles and Derek talk about the consequences of being mated, and someone shows up. Title is from Always by Panama, give it a listen.

AP Biology sucks ass. That’s just the facts of life, regardless of how much everything has changed for all of them, especially since the summer started, school is still a complete drag. AP Bio, however, sucks ass in particular because it’s the one class Stiles’ couldn’t get out of with Scott in it. He has too many other AP periods going, and the only other AP Bio slot is during AP English. Ipso facto, his sorry ass is stuck with Scott. 

There are times when he’ll look up and find the werewolf just staring at him, that same mix of regret and defiance painting his face as it did on the mountain back in New York. He knows Scott had to take a job working at the hospital because Deaton shuttered the animal clinic only days after they all got back, and the former Druid hasn’t been seen since. Just one more thing for Scott to hate him for, no doubt. 

Stiles just tries to power through the period, and, so far, his 92 in the class suggests he’s succeeding. That’s only part of the story with Scott, though. The problem, since literally kindergarten, the two of them were a complete unit. It was always  _ ScottandStiles,  _ said quickly, like it was a single person’s name. The rumors vary from Stiles having fallen in love with Allison, to the two of them having been secretly dating the whole time and they’ve just now broken up. The breakup theory catches traction after Derek picks up Stiles from school early in the semester, pressing a kiss to his lips as he does.  _ That  _ incident gets him some social points, and some extra shit from the homophobic rube crowd. 

Nowadays, though, he’s hardly ever away from one of the betas or Lydia. They all eat lunch together, spend free periods together, Stiles, Isaac, Jackson, and Danny even partner up for drills during lacrosse practice. That was, perhaps, the biggest shock that sent waves through the rumor mill, the long-standing feud between Jackson and Stiles, stretching back to broken crayons and pulled hair in second grade, is dead and buried. Now, the two seem to be among each other’s staunchest defenders. God, how a single summer changes so much. 

Looking out the window as Mrs. Finch lectures on about autosomal disorders, Stiles has to roll his eyes, because it’s snowing.  _ Again.  _ It’s still a week and a half to Christmas break, and Beacon Hills has gotten half of its annual snowfall. San Francisco has gotten six inches since November, when the last time more than an inch fell on the city was in 1976. The forecast calls for nearly a foot to be dumped on the City on the Bay in a single storm in the next few days. Meanwhile, back east, it hasn’t yet spit a single flake in Lake George, which is usually coated in two feet of snow by now. Stiles knows this because he’s been in fairly regular contact with Marin, FaceTiming with her as a means to have someone to talk to about everything he’s endured. 

Even if Gaea did remove the worst of the trauma, he still has a general awareness of what happened. It’s a remote kind of awareness, like watching a video or seeing photos, but the horror of what  _ his body  _ did has stayed with him. Marin, as it turns out, is a licensed therapist, and so far she’s been very helpful in him coping. The Druid helped him to disassociate his body from his mind when thinking and speaking about that time. 

He didn’t say  _ ‘I would wipe out entire countries on their whim,’  _ it was,  _ ‘My body was forced to wipe out countries’ _ , because he didn’t blame the Goddess, either. She was just as much a victim of Gerard and Jennifer’s evil as he was, and She was a fucking Goddess, the Earth itself. What could he have done that She couldn’t? That they got out of their control at all was a miracle, pure and simple. They undid the damage, anyway. Those billions who died with the flick of a wrist or a single word were alive and well. The people of Earth, even in the most repressive places, were far more free than they were under the rule of the hunters. 

“Mr. Stilinski?” Mrs. Finch says, snapping him out of his reverie. “Well?” 

Stiles flails, coming back to reality. “Uh… what was the question?” 

The teacher rolls her eyes. “Pay attention, Stiles. Can you explain the difference between an autosomal and non-autosomal genetic disorder?” 

“It’s, uh… an autosomal disorder comes from chromosomes that aren’t related to sex, and non-autosomal disorders come from the sex chromosomes.” He says, hesitant. 

“Took you a minute, but, yes.” She nods. “Now, autosomal disorders are usually recessive, but non-autosomals are dominant. Can anyone explain why?” 

If there is anyone who does know, he doesn’t pay attention to hear the answer. Stiles just zones back out, mostly thinking about Derek. Being werewolf married hasn’t change nearly as much as he expected it did. The only difference is that he feels the pack bond to Derek, can even reach across it to poke at him if he’s bored. He always feels at least  _ something  _ from Derek, unless the werewolf decides to block him out, which he does from time to time, usually when he’s reading or trying to focus. Even so, Stiles can rather forcefully push across the bond, and reach him through his blocks. 

The rest of the day carries on in a similar haze. He confirms his plans to go Christmas shopping with Lydia later that day, and plans to head back to the pack house in the interim. The seven betas are all going to be absent throughout most of the day, so he’ll enjoy some alone time with Derek, probably in the form of a few episodes of some show on Netflix and a quick meal before heading out with Lydia. 

Stiles pulls up to the house in the midst of  _ yet another flurry,  _ the snow spiraling downward in something that would be beautiful if there hadn’t been so damn much of it lately. It’s the snowiest winter on record for the entire West Coast and it isn’t even Christmas yet. Walking in, he smiles widely at the change in the house visible from even the entryway. 

The bannister of the stairs and the rails of the second floor landing are decorated with silver garland. There’s a tiny snowman on the end table below the large mirror in the foyer, and in the living room there is an enormous Christmas tree, decorated with lights and alternate strips of blue and silver garland. Bulbs of all colors hang from the branches, and atop it all, in place of the star, is a triskele, catching the lights and glinting. The room, with its dark grey paint and creme colored furniture, seems to be something straight out of  _ Better Homes and Garden.  _

“Well?” Derek asks, leaning against the archway that leads to the kitchen. “Thoughts?”

Stiles is speechless, so he strides across the living and grabs Derek, pulling him into a gentle, sweet kiss. “It’s- it’s perfect.” He manages to breathe out, smiling at his mate. “I love it.” 

Another voice calls from behind them both. “Christmas was the one thing we didn’t skip out on after the fire. I told him if he wasn’t going to go all out this year, I’d personally shove a holly branch up his ass and make him eat mistletoe berries.” 

Laura grins conspiratorially at him from the stairs, clearly dressed to go out in a knee-length peacoat and brimmed beanie. 

“Well,” Stiles says. “I am glad that you didn’t have to sodomize him with the bough of a holly tree. Where you headed, Laur?” 

“Picking up Cora from drama club for Christmas shopping, then catching up with old friends. Your mom and I are actually grabbing a coffee, too.” The resurrected wolf says. “It’s nice to have someone understand how weird it is that people just think you were…  _ away.”  _

He nods understandingly. “The whole  _ ‘divorced for six years and reconciled’  _ thing is weird for her. I’m glad you two have one another.” 

“Thanks, kid. I’ll see you guys later, have fun.” With that, she’s gone, and they are alone. 

Derek presses another kiss to Stiles’ lips and looks at him with a soft smile. “You really like it?” 

“I  _ love  _ it.” Stiles corrects. “Pull up something to watch, I’m gonna grab a drink. Want anything?” 

“Pepsi, please.” 

Stiles heads for their enormous, restaurant-grade refrigerator that probably cost more than Roscoe is worth. The kitchen is a beautiful room, paneled with dark wood and blessedly heated tiles on the floors, and with granite countertops so dark they’re nearly black, and an island in the middle that serves as both excellent prep space for dinner and a great breakfast bar. Grabbing two cans of soda from the beast of a fridge, he heads back through the foyer, only to pause as he catches sight of something in the mirror. 

“Huh.” He says, setting the drinks down and thumbing through the locks of his hair.

“Stiles, what is it?” Derek asks, coming next to him. 

“My grey patch is gone.” The human wonders. “We noticed it not long after Mom died. The doctor said it was stress-induced.” 

Derek sighs and grabs the drinks, jerking his head for Stiles to follow. When they sit on the couch, he speaks. “I’ve been waiting for it to start. My guess is, it did not long after we exchanged bites.” 

“Waiting for what to start?” He asks. 

“You’re… finishing growing up. Probably done, actually.” The werewolf explains. “Remember how I said that alphas have ridiculously long lifespans, and how that extends to their mates? Well, that includes  _ human  _ mates.”

“So… what does that have to do with me losing my grey streak?” Stiles asks. 

“You’re being healed, Stiles. Check that scar from when you hip checked the corner of your desk.” He instructs. 

The human does as told, pulling down his pants far enough to expose his right iliac crest, where a thin line marks the location of where he ran into his desk a few years back and cut himself on the edge. Except, the mark is gone. It was prominent enough that Stiles hated the thing, and now it has completely faded. 

“Do you trust me?” Derek continues. Stiles nods, and, with just one claw, Derek slices a thin line across his forearm, blood welling up from the wound instantly. 

“Ow! What was that for?!” He demands.

“Stiles, look.” The other man says, wiping the blood away from the wound to reveal a scab already forming over the cut. “In an hour, it’ll be gone completely. You heal slower than even a normal wolf, but still much faster than any human. Our aging, however, is going to be the same.”

“That explains my surprise growth spurt this summer.” Stiles says, now grasping the full scale of what is happening to him. “The magic is making sure I’m done maturing.” 

Derek nods. “You’re gonna look like this for a very long time.” 

“How long?”

“Decades. Maybe a century before you even get crows feet or a smile line.” 

He gapes at the werewolf.  _ “A century?” _

“Probably two hundred and fifty years before you get a grey hair again. Another two hundred, two hundred and fifty before we die, assuming I don’t pass on the alpha power.”

“Five hundred years.” 

“Or longer. It’s rare, but it’s happened.” 

Stiles stands up from the couch, grabbing his head in his hands. “Five hundred years…” He mutters to himself. “How would we even?” 

“It’s easier than you think. A bit of magic here, a decent set of forged documents there. Move every ten or so years, or just become recluses. A haircut, dye job, a set of contacts, and a name change also does wonders. How do you think Satomi has been able to hang around for so long?” 

“I just assumed she didn’t go out much.” He replies. 

Derek shakes his head. “No, she’s gone by a few different identities. Ask the few humans in Loma Mar, and she’s Grace Ito, Satomi’s daughter. Back when she lived in Ojai, her name was Mineko Sato.” 

“Christ. Is that gonna be us? The mysteriously well preserved neighbors, the ones who only stay a few years before vanishing, only to move back when everyone that knew them is dead?” 

“Stiles, it doesn’t haven’t to be this way.” He replies. “I can pass on the alpha power when the time comes. If we ever have a child, I’ll certainly give it up to them when they’re old enough.”

The human sits back down next to Derek, sighing. “It’s not that I’m opposed to five hundred years with you. I love the idea, and the thought of living to see what kind of future will be is  _ so  _ exciting. But… what about the betas? We’ll still look like we’re in our twenties when their grandchildren have died of old age.” 

“It’s hard.” He agrees. “I don’t like the thought of that either, but having you would be worth it all.” 

Before either of them can speak again, there’s a sudden shift in the world, an awareness of another presence that strikes both of them. It is a familiar feeling, one tinged with the sense of a mother’s love and the ancient knowledge of the divine. The wind outside stops, and through the window the two men can see that the snow has frozen in the air, suspended like a sea of stars in the void. Then, there is a knocking on the door. 

Both of them walk over and open it, taking in the sight of the Goddess on their doorstep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, what does the Earth Mother want now, as if I didn’t give it away in the summary. No one has figured out who our main God is this story yet, so keep guessing. Give me reviews, too, please!


End file.
